


Don't Think Back

by StrideThePrick (orphan_account)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Cutting, Depression, Fluff, M/M, No Homo, Sadstuck, So much lust from Dave, Update tags as I go, bad memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-15
Updated: 2013-11-03
Packaged: 2017-12-29 11:11:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1004735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/StrideThePrick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Egbert is broken. His wife died in a car crash, his best friend who was also in the crash is in a constant on and off coma. His only other friend died of cancer. Dave Strider is no better. His older brother was murdered by a man who he might only be reconised by a pale scare running over his left eye.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>((Okay, yeah, summaries suck))</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Okay this is a prologue and my very first story.. I think like one chapter a day or every other day if they're this short.

Rose held your hand tightly. She knew this was hard, and it almost felt like she knew what this was like for you. You always loved the way she comforted you, the way she listened and cared. She wiped the fresh tear trails off your cheek and rubbed your arm.  
  
"I know this is hard. John, I really do. But it's time for him to move on." It hurt. It hurt a lot. But she's right. You take a deep breath, entwining your fingers with hers. You leave the hospital after you say your last goodbye to the friend who was always so close through your childhood.  
  
Karkat was gone, and you had to face that fact. He died of cancer, right in front of you and all his friends.  
  
There was a dull ache in your chest as you drive home, not listening to the radio and not talking. Rose held your hand most of the way, and when she wasn't she was rubbing her stomach.  
  
Somewhere in the back of your mind you remember she was pregnant. You try not to worry to hard about that. You were planning to propose soon, sealing off you life with a promise. You loved Rose. You really did.  
  
\- - -  
  
Bro usually wasn't home. He would occasionally show his face when he was pissed off and ready to beat you to a pulp, but other than that and to be some kind of nagging mom, he was gone. Not as if he was out on the roads or anything, but to scare the living shit out of you. You never actually found all his hiding spots, and frankly, you didn't really want to find out.  
  
Bro pats your back as you walk through the door returning from your first business interview. You glance up at him, hoping the wariness from the gesture doesn't show up in your eyes.  
  
"Go a'ight, little bro?" There's a smirk on his face that you just want to slap off. He knows you got the job. Why wouldn't you? You're a mother fucking Strider.  
  
"Like hell I did. Record shop officially graced with Dave fucking Strider." You roll your eyes behind your shades and flash off to your room. You change from your somewhat nice clothes to your outfit that's comfortable and you wear as often as you can.  
  
Just as you slip the hem of your shirt over your head you feel a hand on your shoulder. You're startled, but Bro taught you better then to show anything, let alone someone sneaking up on you. You turn to him as you snatch your iPod from your desk.  
  
"You, me, Micky D's. We're doing this bro, we're making this celebration happen."  
  
You roll your eyes and slide on the headphones and worn red Converse.  
  
"A'ight, just don't fucking flirt with counter ladies just for a free McSlurpy. It's fucking weird, Bro." You follow him out the door and flash down the stairs. You know he'll do it anyway, you just like making the point that it's weird.  
  
\- - -  
  
You wave off your new fiancé and your best friend with a large grin, still smiling as you close the door. You loved Rose. Jade was sweet too, and you're very lucky to have both of them and your father in your life. They all comforted you past feeling the sorrow from loosing your other friend, but you moved on to just live with the fact. He was great, and he's no doubt somewhere great right now. You smile to yourself as you sit down on your couch.  
  
Rose and Jade have been gone for a while, now. All they went to do is pick up some groceries, it couldn't possibly take longer than another ten minuets. It's probably some girl thing, you think. You're completely zoned out with the weird thoughts of what she could possibly be doing, you mind gone to think of things that are completely absurd. What if it's the baby? Just a few weeks early? No, no. That's stupid. That cant happen. What if she's stuck in traffic? Yeah, that's a likely reason. Just a lot of traffic--  
  
Your thoughts are knocked out of orbit for a moment and you realize your phone is ringing. You pick it up from the coffee table, take a moment to savor the loveliness of your ringtone (How Do I Live Without You), and answer to the unknown number.  
  
"Hello?" You turn the TV down for the politeness and listen to the voice answering.  
  
"Ah, yes. Are you Mr. Egbert?" Well that's a bit odd.  
  
"Junior, yeah. People usually refer to my dad as Mr. Egbert."  
  
"I'm calling about your wife." Your face pales. This didn't sound good.  
  
"Rose? Is she okay? Where is she?"  
  
"She got in a car crash. We aren't quite sure what happened, but we hope to find out when her friend gets out of a coma."  
  
"Is she okay?" You repeat the question, your cell phone almost falling out of your hand in the shakiness.  
  
"I'm sorry for your loss, Mr. Egbert."  
  
"What do you--" You drop your phone. No.  
  
\- - -  
  
You and Bro walk down the sidewalk with the grace and sexiness of a mother fucking Clydesdale. You turn on the corner, your eyes squinting against the brightness of the Texas sun.  
  
You keep walking with your eyes nearly closed. You don't sense Bro, but that's normal. You walk into Micky D's and turn, expecting to see your older brother smirking his stupid smug smirk. When you don't see him, you freeze. Only for a moment. It's just another test. You grumble about Bro, leaving the cool, conditioned air of fast food to retrace your steps. A man steps out of the alley in front of you. He turns and gives you a devilish smile, but all you really see on the dark man is the pale scar running over his left eye. You frown as he walks away, not being able to help a glance down the alley.  
  
This time you really do freeze. Time is at a standstill, and the only thing you see is the figure of your older brother with a sword through his torso. Shit.


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet 'n' Greet.
> 
> Happy places. Happy times. No more sadnesseseses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so
> 
> yeah.
> 
> I was writing this and I feel so derpy just like yup I'm writing like a novel or some shit

You grabs a handful of CD cases from the counter, sliding them into alphabetical order. The shop had been empty recently. You didn't mind, it made less work for you. And being paid to sit around was pretty nice. You walk around, straightening headphones, reorganizing a poorly maintained order, and dusting off some shelves. A man around your age comes in and nods at you, glancing around the shelves.  
He soon comes to the desk. "Can I help you with finding, man?" You look up from your work and take in his features. He has messy black hair that works perfectly on his tanned skin, his bright blue eyes framed by thick glasses. He's around your age, give or take a year. He gives a large grin, his teeth white and sparkling. His teeth are too straight and perfect, giving you the impression that he had braces when he was younger.  
"Uh, yeah! That'd be pretty great." He glances around. "Do you guys have any Leann Rimes?"  
You roll your eyes. Though not like he'd see it. "Never heard of them." You take a moment to take in this guy's face. Pure horror. "Joking," his face softens, "Amazing Grace, I Need You, Blue, etcetera. Yeah."  
He smiles, more of a shy smile then a excited grin. "Cool!" You lead him over to the end, shuffling through CDs more to show off then to look. You pull out three of her albums.  
"One, two, or three?" You hand them to him and glance over to where the door opens once more. You call a, "I'll be right with you," to them before looking back to the man in front of you.  
"All of them!"  
You give a slight smirk while you nod, waving him back over to the desk. "Thirty-two, twenty nine."  
"You just know that by heart?"  
"I've been working here for a while." You take his money and hand back the change.  
The other customer moves over to the desk with a hard expression. Before you can ask him if he needs anything, he pulls a gun on the man you just were helping. By the shakiness of his hand and the not-so-great hold on him, you think he might be a bit new at this. The Leann kid's face grows a deathly shade of white.  
"Let me guess," you start, starting to open the register. "'Give me all you got or the kid gets it' shit? I'll play along." You pull out the money and start counting through it, nonchalance catching the robber off guard. "It won't end up very good for you, though."  
With a quick step and a swift motion or two, you had the robber in a strangling headlock and the gun twisted up against the back of his head. "I'll just," Leann pauses, blinking and pulling out his phone. "Call the police, or something."  
You nod. "Stay here 'till they get here, so they know I didn't pull a fucking gun on this guy. Thank, Leann."  
He makes a face. "It's John, not Leann." Mission accomplished. "But okay. Also I'd like a bag of some sort."  
"I'm rolling my eyes big time, bro."  
"Well I wouldn't be able to tell with those dark ass shades. It's dark in here, and I'm not even wearing anything. You'll ruin your eyes." Not like you haven't heard that one before.  
"I'll take my chances."  
  
\- - -   
You've never seen anyone move like that. Not ever. He was sitting at the counter counting out hundreds, his shoulders relaxed without a care in the world. It scared you. It really did. But then he was gone, a blur, a shadow. The iron that was pressed against your neck was gone, and before you know in the employee had the robber in a choke hold. You called the police, and were ordered to stay and wait as a witness.

"How did you do that?" You were still confused, holding your bag tightly as the police finally left. The more you thought about it, the weirder it became. You can't just disappear. That's not a thing that happens.  
"Do what?" He glances up at you with stupid shaded eyes. They were probably a gorgeous blue, too. They probably wouldn't fit his face as well as the several piercings did, or the bleached white hair, or the sharp angle of his chin that was lightly dusted with scruff, or the strong profile of his arms or--  
You had no idea where you were going with that.  
"Where you got all blurry and then you disappeared, how you had the robber in a choke hold before I could even blink! No one can move that fast. Let alone someone who's such a lazy ass."  
"I'm not a lazy ass." He sits down and pulls out his phone, pulling his legs up to rest on the desk.  
"You seem like one." You hold in a giggle because that's not manly enough for you.  
"Well I'm not."  
"Then why do you sit around texting while you could be doing something else?" You nudge his feet, prodding the laces on the worn red Converse.  
"What else could I be doing? My shift ends in like, three minuets. Then I get to go home and lay around." He sighs as he pulls his legs back, retying the lace you loosened.  
"I'm new in town, you could show me around," you sound way less desperate then you thought you would, and now it sounds like you're asking him out on a date. Totally no homo, by the way.  
"You're asking me out already?" Yup, see. "Damn, man. Strider charm takes this to the next level. I swear to god--"  
"No!" Your face was red and his rambling only made it worse. You didn't all the way intend to make your voice that loud, but it worked. "I mean. No. I just moved here from Washington after my life was stomped on, so I wanted to kind of know where I was planning on living for the rest of my life. And you're sort of the only one I know at all."  
"You don't even know my name." The edge of his right eyebrow raises above his shades.  
"Your name tag says Dave, and I'm guessing your last name is Strider."  
"Damn, you're good. A'ight, fine, it's a date."

You pull your headphones off your ears and pause the music that was playing. Another song built to perfection. You make these sick beats not only for your own entertainment but because it's your secondary job, the one as some music making masked prick. You lay down on your bed and pull your phone out of your pocket. The time read seven twenty-four (was it only that late?) and three missed calls from Egbert.  
You've been hanging out with him a lot, though he's never been to your apartment and you've never been to his house. That's alright, though. If you're going to get somewhere with him you need to take it slow. He claims he isn't a homosexual, and you play along and pretend that you've never seen him stare at guy's asses. You're also pretty sure that he's made one or two comments on Justin Timberlake ass.  
Just when you're about to call him back, your phone buzzes with his number. You roll your eyes to yourself as you answer, pulling the phone up to your ear.  
"Yo, Egg?" The corner of your mouth curls up in a smirk.  
"Dave! Jeez! Why didn't you answer the first three times I called?"  
"I have a life and hobbies, don'tcha know."  
"Woah, really??" He fakes a surprised gasp.  
"Dude, I can hear the excess of question marks. I also can hear that shit eating grin on your face." It's pretty true.  
"Okay, okay, so. I have a riddle for you."  
"Oh god." You hate riddles. It's not that you're stupid, it's just that you don't like thinking about something that isn't worth thinking about.  
"I have a coffee table. On that coffee table are these things: a stack of hopelessly shitty movies, my car keys, two bags of popcorn ready to be popped, a Xbox controller, and a small stack of not so shitty games. What do I do?"  
"That's a shitty riddle. Here I am, all pencil and paper, trying to understand where you're going with this. The obvious solution would to get the fuck over to my apartment for a bro night before I fall asleep." You stand up, starting to straighten up you bedroom from 'very messy what the hell' to 'okay you just don't clean it ain't your thing'. It's an improvement. You hold the phone to your ear as you close out of your music in making. It looks a bit suspicious.  
"Cool! Alright, so where to?"  
You hesitate. You move to your window and look down. If you had been scared of heights, you would've puked. "You know the Chase tower?"  
"Well, duh. That's like the tallest building in the whole city. You live near it?"  
"I live in it, dumb ass. 600 Travis Street. Seventy-fifth floor."  
There was silence for a moment. You were about to ask if he was still there when you hear a disbelieving laugh. "You're pulling my leg. Ha, ha. Whatever. I'll meet you in the front of the building."  
He hangs up and you roll your eyes. God damn it, now you're going to have to walk all the way down the stairs. Okay, you're being dramatic. You'll take the elevator.

 

You step out of the building into the hot sun. You glance around, your eyes soon finding the excited figure waving to you. You can practically feel the sun burning your skin, so you wave him inside. Despite his questions you walk to the elevator and click the 'up' button. You told him you fucking lived here, and it's his fault for not believing.  
You step inside with him and wait as your floor comes sluggishly closer. And you wait. And you wait. The door opens and you step inside your apartment, not in any way fighting against the loving feel of air conditioning.  
"See? I totally live here." Now that someone other than you has actually come into your apartment, for the first time in two years, you realize what a mess you've made. If you think about it, though, it isn't too bad.  
In the living room thing, the couch's cushions have been set in an odd angle, only the best way for you to sprawl out in the most comfortable way. There's a desk in the back that has several boxes of Stride CDs, sitting out with a few markers around to make a bit of extra cash if he needed it. Theres a pretty large good quality TV that has cords and game consoles tangled up around it, the screen facing a nice angle that worked for your usual sitting position. Theres a picture of Bro in a frame in the back corner of a room, turned to the side so you didn't have to feel the shot of pain that make your chest hurt. It also made your arms hurt, but that's for a different reason. The reminders of Bro never helped the things you got into during your depression.  
The kitchen wasn't any better. The fridge had pictures of SBAHJ taped all over it, the dirty plates and random food plastics littering the counters. You ignore the rest up stairs, because there was no way you were bringing John up there.  
"Dude.. Oh my god!" John had moved over to the desk in the back while you were in your thoughts. "How do you have these?"   
You walk to stand beside him, watching him rifle through all your CDs. "What do you mean?"  
"They're all signed, and you have all his songs!"  
"You a fan?" The warmness of being known settles in your stomach, the softness growing in your gut and to your chest.  
"Of course. Stride is one of the best. I think it's cool, the super famous Stride is living a perfectly normal life behind our backs. It just makes me think. What if I already met him?"  
You smirk, quickly wiping it off to a deadpan before John noticed the twitch of his lips. "I know. I'm probably more of a fan then you, Egbert. I have all his work, all the posters, and a lot of the things he's actually used."  
John rolls his eyes when he turns to you. "Bullshit. Anyway, lets get our game on!"


	3. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave makes some mistakes. He lets his lust get in the way, speeding things too quickly. John is too pressured with this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I didn't know what I was writing

It's about one o' clock when the last movie switches to title screen. The remote in on the table, but you don't feel like moving. You have John Egbert leaning against you. He gives of light snores, his breathing more calm to our nerves then playing music. An idea slips into your head. If you move, by a total accident, John'll fall into your lap. But, since you totally don't want that to happen, you shift. Damn it! It seems the odds are against you as John's head slips down to rest on your lap. Your hands mess with his soft shiny hair, since you have nothing better to do. At all.  
John slows his snoring to soft wheezes of his breath. Your hands slow, your fingers sliding into his hair to card them through it. You softly scrape your nails against his scalp, a smile threatening to creep onto your lip. John sighs and your shoulders tense. Your fingers continue, the pads of them massaging his head.  
"That feels really good." Yup. Shit.  
You don't answer, just continue rubbing your fingers and nails against him, occasionally pulling them out and stroking his hair. A smile sits on his lips as you do so. After a moment or two, you stretch forward and grab the remote, turning the TV off.  
"Dave?" You were falling asleep, your hand pulled out of his hair and resting on your stomach.  
You slowly open your eyes, turning them down to John. You didn't need to, but you turn your head down too. "Mm?"  
He nuzzles against your abdomen, shrugging himself to lay on his side. "Just checking if you were awake." You're glad his eyes are closed, because you feel heat reach your cheeks and your pretty sure you're blushing like a schoolgirl.

You wake up curled around John on the couch. You're not quite sure how it happened but right now you're just enjoying it. You continue to act asleep. John shifts, pulling his face into your chest. His hands explore, moving over your ribs (dontlaughdontflipyourshityourechill) and arms. You wish you could do the same, you really do, but right now you're being asleep so he can do his thing. He finishes over your stomach, and you feel no hesitation as he dips his fingers under your pants. They didn't go far, pulling quickly out and calming back against you.  
"Damn," you start, pulling him closer. "Way to be subtle." You feel him tense under you.  
"Dude, chill. I don't mind." You did, actually. You want to make him, to force him, to touch you in ways that wasn't all the way like friends should. But you're letting him take this slow, so you put aside your own lust.  
You feel the dull ache in your arms you usually feel from a previous day of taking your mind off things. You ignore it.  
John loosens up his tensed muscles after about five minuets of you just holding him and running your hands through his hair. "You can do it any time, you know. Totally chill with it."  
"I'm not a homosexual." His voice was muffled by your chest, which he had just nuzzled back into.  
"You totally are."  
He pulls back, looking down as he stands up and gathers his things. "Hey, um. I have to go."  
You feel your heart sink. You stand up after him, walking with him over to the door. "We should do this against sometime."  
"Um.. Yeah. Okay."  
"And sorry."  
He glances up at you, and before you actually register what your brain decided to do you kissed John. On the fucking lips. His face turned red and he coughed, wiping his lips and walking out the door and into the elevator before you get to make an excuse. Shit.  
You close the door. You really fucked up.

\- - -

No. Nononono. This can't happen. You aren't gay. Maybe you gave him the wrong impression. Maybe you got too close to someone you shouldn't have. You can't loose him, not the only friend you have. He was making it better, he was making you stop thinking of ways to hurt yourself. He was there. You've aways been told that being straight was good and your future would be just like you expected it to be with Rose. You feel your heart squeeze and you climb out of your car.  
No. It's not good to think of things that make you sad. It always makes you pull open your boxes of razors, the ones meant for shaving, and begin to hurt yourself far more than you already were. You walk into your bathroom anyway, opening your cabinet for pills that you plan on taking. You send a quick text to Dave before sitting down on your couch with a cub of water and an armful of jars.

dave, help.  
614 Kipling Street  
on my way

You set down your phone and finish the bottles of pain meds, meds for numbing, and sleeping pills. It was enough to knock you out for a long while, and that's all that mattered.

\- - -

You knock on the door, your heart pounding. This can't happen again. It can't. You try the door, which seems to be unlocked, and step in. You flash around, it being quieter then walking. You find John out cold on the couch, his phone on the floor and jars of medication on the table beside him. He had a scribbled note on his chest, that was definitely made with a tired hand. You take it, frowning at what it said.

please confiscate my bathroom  
-john

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From now on, chapters will be longer and every other day. Sorry 'bout sappy typing skills, too.


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave learns, lets go, and figures his shit out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bb steps davv  
> bb stesp  
> setps*  
> steps*  
> ;;)  
> *wonks*

You can't believe what you're holding. You went through John's entire bathroom, finding what he could only mean. You force yourself not to be tempted to hurt your own self, and you shove everything that could possibly hurt into a bag that you pull over your shoulder. You lay down next to John, having him lay against your chest as you play games on your phone. His breathing comforts you, letting you know he's there, letting you know that you're no longer alone in your life. You soon fall asleep, your phone resting under your hand that lays on your chest, your other arm around John.  
Your phone buzzes you back to consciousness, pulling you out of dreams of dark purple castles and kingdoms, but into a cluttered house with John still breathing at your side. You groan as you pull it to your ear.  
"Yo, bit busy." You grumble and shift, one hand resting on John's head, your fingers softly rubbing into his scalp.  
There was a familiar cackle, the devilish laugh that only meant you had to work. "Oh, come on, Stride! Let me talk to you real quick!" She sounded way more pleasant over the phone then she was in person.  
"What is it now?" You grumble and turn down the volume of your phone.  
"I sighed you up for a signing!"  
"Oh god, TZ, I'll fucking sue you someday." You frown and sigh. There was no way of getting out of her plans.  
"Come on, coolkid. Time for you to get up off your lazy ass."  
You sigh again. "Where to and when?"  
You old the phone away from your ear as she squeals, cackling after. "Bayou Place, tomorrow night nine o' clock! I'll meet you outside, so come in something not so 'oh wait that's Stride', okay? Okay."  
You sputter. "Tomorrow night?? You wait to tell me these plans NOW?"  
"I know you lived close, so you could deal. Later coolkid!" And she hung up. Just like that.

John wakes up about half an hour later, looking up at you then shifting to rest his head on our shoulder better, watching you play Whale Trail on your phone. You've gotten pretty far in the game, getting all the way to the green Goody in most runs. The irony of this game is beautiful, so you play as often as you can.  
John snorts when you go into a frenzy, doing loopy-loops over the screen to smash all the clouds. "There ain't nothing wrong with high whales. Especially when they go into frenzies and get to kill all the constipated clouds."  
He chuckles, reaching a hand up to mess up your finely worked out loops and swoops. As you fall from the skies and get murdered by a black octopus, you change to another app. You pull up Farmville and do your daily dose, smirking as John laughs at the apps you play. You turn off your phone and set it down on your chest, a hand rubbing John's arm and resting there.  
"So, uh." John starts fiddling with the hem of your shirt, eyes flicking up to yours only once. "Stride's having a signing. I was wondering if you'd come with me."   
Fuck.  
"I can't." It hurt. You wanted to go with him to his sort-of-hopefully-a-date, but for obvious reasons you couldn't. "I'm sorry. I totally would if I could."  
You /feel/ his heart sink, his arms falling slightly and his fingers letting go of your shirt. "Oh. Alright. Sorry."  
"God damn it, don't make me feel like a--" Your voice quits from the sudden MLP intro coming from your buzzing phone, which was still on your chest. My Little Pony, My Little Pony, ahh-ahH-aHH-AHH! You pull the phone to your ear. "What the hell do you want?"  
And then a cackle. You hang up, texting her in a series of texts that used morse code, spelling out 'not now'. You learned it for her, morse code, since she was nearly blind and it was often hard for her to type. When she did text you, though, it was filled with a bunch of numbers instead of letters. You couldn't blame her, lots if them looked alike. But you still think she does it to annoy you. You get an '4LR1T3 C00LK1D >:]' back and you set your phone back onto your chest.  
"Was that your girlfriend?" John looks up at you and you shake your head quickly.  
"Hell no. She's.. My manager of sorts." You shrug lightly and think back to what you were saying before you were so rudely interrupted. "What I was saying, is that I'm extremely busy that night."  
"I didn't tell you what night it was." He frowns and starts shifting to get up. Nope, not again.  
You pull him into your arms and sigh. "It's tomorrow night, you asswipe. I know you don't think so but I totally would like to go spend the time with you, 'cept I can't."  
His shoulders relax and he nods, hesitantly wrapping his arms around your waist. "Alright."  
You get an idea. "Hey, you know. I'm pretty chill with Stride. Maybe you can meet him sometime."  
He pulls away and stares at you. "You're bullshitting me. Don't even lie when you say if you are."  
"I'm not."  
"Uh-huh. Yeah right."  
"I'll show you sometime."  
"I'll hold you to that."  
"Good."  
"Better."  
You stare at him for a moment, slowly leaning forward. His eyes widen, but he doesn't lean away. He leans closer. You meet his lips, the soft light pink lips that he knows will be good for something far better then kissing. At a recognition of your own wants, you pull back to reality and make sure your kiss is chaste, not wanting to push John past the limit.  
He pulls back after a few seconds, face turning a deep red. "I'm not a homosexual," he looks down and sighs.  
"I know," his eyes shoot up to you, his (amazing) mouth opening to say something. "They're just best friend kisses. Nothing more."  
He grins and nods, laying back against you. "You're a great bro, you know."  
You make a microscopic wince at the use of the word bro. "You too. For real."  
You set a hand on his head and run your fingers through his locks. your other hand types away at a text about tomorrow.

\- - -

You don't know what to do. You aren't gay, you made that awfully clear, but lately the back of your mind starts doubting your sources. You've never felt for anyone the way that you've felt for Rose, but she didn't make your heart race like Dave does. She was amazing, she understood, and you loved her. But she never shot shivers up your spine and made you blush quite as much. You aren't gay, but could you merely be happy to have a friend?  
No. If you are brutally honest with yourself you have a fucking middle school crush on Dave. It was terrible. You knew Dave had something or you (you hate to admit it, but that fact made your heart flutter and your stomach do flips), but that made things worse. It made you want. It made you want things that shouldn't be asked of best friends.   
You quickly expel the thoughts of what exactly it was that you wanted.  
You aren't a homosexual.  
Rose never gave you this much of a lust before in your life.  
Ever.  
You hide your face as you try to forget those thoughts, It doesn't work, but the feeling of Dave around you calms you down. You love how he snores, the soft vibrations racking his chest and only making a slight hum in his breath. You love how he breaths, his chest filling with air for a moment, his body holding it there for just a fragment of a second, then expelling the warm breath over your head. You love hold he holds you, nit constricting in any way, not forcing, not pushing you into things you don't want to be pushed into. He just holds you to his side like you were a prize to be shown off. Like he was proud to have you be his friend. You loved.. Him.  
Your gut twists, and your throat tightens. You shake your head and pull your hands over your eyes, sighing and rubbing. "God dammit," you mumble your words quietly.  
"Mm?" You hadn't realized the absence of his snores. You nuzzle into his side, shoulders loosening when Dave's hand rubs into your back.  
"Nothing." You shut your eyes and mess with Dave's shirt while you try to forget the conclusion you came up with.  
He nods and rubs your arm, fingers softly tapping a rhythm that you find quite nice. You remember Jade. You used to hold her in much the same way, playing keys of a piano on her arm to an unheard song, comforting her when you both were going through the death of Karkat.  
Your eyes fill with tears as you begin to remember all the great things about each of your friends. Dave shifts, moving away from you. You can hardly blame him, you're a mess. You curl in on yourself as the absence of Dave's warmth strikes you.  
He pulls you up into his arms, hugging you close with you on his lap. He rocks you slightly, his lips close to your ear and mumbling soft, sweet words. Youslide off your glasses and nuzzle into his shoulder. You hold him tight and sob.

\- - -

You've been there, too. You've cried during most of the nights in the first few months Bro had be gone. You needed to hold, to sob, to get it out. After that you never grew close to anyone. You were scared to. But John found his way into your life and now you're sitting here holding him. Letting him hold you. Letting him sob. Letting him get it out.  
You rub circles in his back and hum lightly. He quiets, but hold his arms around you tightly. He mumbles something, and the only way you could tell was his lips moving against your chest, because you couldn't actually hear anything from him other than the occasional sniffle.  
You pull away slightly, only far enough to see his puffy eyes and skin splotched with red, and rest your forehead on his. "You wanna talk about it?" Oh god you sound so cheesy, it' ridiculous. Maybe you could form it into some kind of irony. Probably not.  
His eyes try to look through your shades, try to find your eyes. He can't. after a moment he shifts his gaze away from your lens. "Will you promise me something?" His voice is shaky and unsteady, a pleading look in his eyes that asks, begs, you to promise.  
"Of course," you couldn't say no. You couldn't.  
"Promise me you'll never die." His eyes fill with tears again and. You can't. You can't promise that. You hate to say it but he can't promise that, either. Your gut twists and you think of Bro once again.  
After a moment or two, you sigh and card your fingers through his hair. "You know why I can't promise that. But I promise I'll do whatever I can to stay here with you."  
That seemed good enough. His eyes soften and he gives a small smile, nodding. He leans upward slowly, pecking his lips to yours. You smile, a real smile even if it was small, and peck his nose. "I promise the same thing, then."  
You let the moment pass quietly, after a while of you two holding each other you lay back down with him at your side. "You wanna talk about it?" You mumble quietly, trying not to rouse him if he was falling asleep.  
He doesn't answer right away, staying quiet enough that you think he won't answer. He sighs, shrugging softly. "You might not want to listen."  
"What, oh my god, did you really just say that?" You turn to face him, taking his hands and holding them to your chest and looking him in the eye. "I'll listen to anything you have to say."  
He nods and looks down, his eyes soon coming back up to yours. "Will you take your shades off, it's getting annoying." You smirk and he gives an unsteady grin.  
"Just for you, I guess." You can't believe this. You're taking your shades off for John. You've gotten too soft over the years. You slide off your shades and set them lightly in the table beside John's glasses. You look back at him, trying to hide everything in your eyes.  
He gapes, fingers moving up to brush up against your eyelids. "You're eyes are.." He pauses and you wait, choking on the fright you have about him, maybe, possibly, hating your eyes. Stupid fucking cliché pause. "Beautiful." You relax and he smiles, feeling him trace around the freckles of your cheeks.  
"What did you want to talk about?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Surprise time ==>
> 
> I'm writing another story.. secretly. It'll be some kind of one chapter thing, and I have a feeling I'll be writing a lot more after it. Like. A bunch of mini random stories about who knows what. Aaaannd. Maybe take suggestions for them? Ships? Plot? Bluh. Yeah. Hopefully this chapter was longer.


	5. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Worthless chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Severe writers block sorry ugh, this is a short chapter. I've been putting it off and writing other things.

You let your fingers glide over the keys, headphones around your neck. You add beats, takes some away, and changes the sound effects. You likes this song, you think. It has life. You like the effect you gave on it, too. It makes it sound like time stops and slows down, and you like the feeling you can control time. You would like that power. And with your music, you have that power.  
You play the song again, listening to it carefully. After playing it over, you nod. You send it out, knowing that you'll soon hear it on the radio.  
You sit back for a moment, thoughts running through your head. They soon trip, fall, and die by a sudden interruption. You'll never forget those thoughts. Well. You frown as that began to make no sense. If your thoughts die, you won't have them anymore and they'll be forgotten. Ugh. He answers the phone.  
"Yo."  
"Dude, you sound like such an insufferable prick when you answer like that."  
"Is this Douchecanoe Nolife, or Zoosmell Pooplord?" You roll your eyes. You always answer like that, and John knows it.  
"None of the above, Try again, smartass." He chuckles and you sit back.  
"Is there a word bank?" You can nearly hear John roll his eyes.  
"Aaannnyyywaaaay."  
"Woah, that was a long anyway."  
"It's the 'dropping the damn subject now' anyway."  
"Check. Okay, so did you need something?" You hold the phone to your ear as you begin to close out and save things on your laptop. After you finished that, you shut off your keyboard and lay down on your bed. You were pretty beat.  
"Can we hang out tonight?"  
God damn it. You force your eyes open. "I was just about to fall asleep, so. Sure, if you're bringing beer and redbull."  
He laughs, the nice laugh that always made you smile. "You'll get fat. And extremely drunk." You roll your eyes as if he could see. "That doesn't mean I'm complaining."  
You laugh and your mind starts floating through thoughts, through ideas. You quickly try dismiss them. Only some are managed to be let go. "A'ight. See you when?"  
"Five minuets?"  
"Sounds chill to me."  
"I really don't get your grammar. Like. At all."  
"It's called English."  
Your conversation extends like this for another few minuets before you're sitting across the couch from him, still on the phone. You loose connection. You totally act as if he didn't see you crumple paper in front of your cell. That's not a thing you do.

You two stumble down a sidewalk. You've just spent an assload of money at a bar, and decided it would be a good time to go home. Somehow, your hand ended up in the back pocket of John's pants, his hand in yours. It was extremely hard to walk, especially like this. You think maybe you should remove your hand and deprive it of plush rump, but you don't. You think it's quite comfortable where it is.  
Once you finally collapse on the couch with John, your eyes start to drag. You were laughing, and John was laughing. You felt chill. You loved the feeling. You don't think about what'll happen in the morning. You didn't want the hangover you knew this would deliver. But maybe it's alright. You end up cuddling with John, and waking up like you were would be perfectly alright with you.  
You were wrong. This sucks. Your head was pounding, your stomach was turning, and your mouth was dry. You knew your stomach wouldn't last long, but you felt so damn comfortable where you were that you might end up puking up all over John. Your face twists as you think of how sick that would be. And not the good kind of sick. You pull yourself from John's grip.

\- - -

Maybe this isn't good. Maybe you shouldn't do this. Maybe it would be better if you knew Dave better.  
But the thing is, you do know Dave. You know him very well. You know he'll be okay with this.  
At least, you hope he will.  
You get out of your car and walk into the tall building, fingers twitching to tell Dave something about your plan. But you don't. You walk into the elevator, nodding in acknowledgment at the man in there as well. You tap the very top button, looking down at your shoes as you wait.  
Ding.  
You look up and a lady walks in, tapping a button and standing to the side. You look back down.  
Ding.   
The man exits.  
Ding. Another woman enters, a nasty grin on her face and pointed red sunglasses on her nose. He held a cane, but didn't walk with it as if she needed it all too much. She taps the top floor, even though the button was already lit.  
Ding. The other woman leaves.  
You turn to the creepy woman with a freaky grin. "Why're you going up to the top floor?"  
She turns to you, her bloodshot and hazy blueish-grey eyes pointed to your left. "To see a client. What about you?"  
You shake your head, forcing your eyes to look away from hers. "It's where my boyfriend lives." No body but Dave lives on the top floor, you realize. Shit. You totally referred to Dave as your boyfriend to someone who knows him. God damn it. She wiggles her eyebrows with expert ease.  
"I see. We will walk in together, then. I haven't actually told him I was heading over, so you'll be my excuse."  
"I didn't tell him, either." You glance at her again, and she's still grinning toward you.  
You sigh. "God help us."  
The elevator opens and you two step inside. You know his place like the back of your hand. You step around a clutter of CDs, moving to start straightening up cords and consoles for major gaming being planned. The lady steps quietly toward Dave's room, standing outside the closed door before screeching a, "Dddaaaaaavvvvveee!"  
You could hear him drop something, hit his head, and stumble to the door with probably the most colorful language ever. You snort and look up at her, Dave opening his door and holding her shoulder tightly. "My god, TZ, what the hell." He held his head with the other hand. You rush over to him, taking his hand from his head, and looking if there was blood. He watches you, confusion covering his face. "Egbert? The fuck?"  
"Um. Yeah. Surprise?" You shrug and verify that Dave was not bleeding and that he only had a large bump.

TZ, which you guess is her name, leaves after a while and your left with Dave grumbling over being scared half to death and smashing his head into his keyboard. "What were you even doing under it?"  
You convinced him to take his shades off after TZ left, and you can plainly see him roll his eyes. "Fixing it. It fucking broke so I was fixing it."  
It was your turn to roll your eyes. "Okay, then this is on you."  
"Just shut the fuck up and watch the damn movie." You turn back to the movie that was on. Fucking Nemo, man. Irony is ruining your life.  
"Fine, fine. Whatever." You lean against him and sigh as he pulls his arm around you. You admit it, if only to yourself. You've fallen head over heals for Dave.  
And you're perfectly fine with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! I'm starting a new story, guys! It'll be another PepsiCola because hopy ship thats my otp. Always. Also I might start working on a JohnBro or MAYBE Stridercest. Still thinking.  
> If you want certain ships for me, just leave a comment and I'll have it posted within a week.


	6. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smooches. That's all I can really say about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh finally so sorry it took me so long I was on a spree with Until It's Known

John has been coming a lot and a lot more recently, giving you less time to work on your job. You've quit your previous job, the whole store going under the bus. You're starting to get a lot of money off of Stride, and you know soon you'll have to tell John. You hope soon isn't too soon.

You sit down on the couch, your fingers sliding into your hair. John'll be here soon, and you know you'll have to spill the beans. He's going to have to fucking throw these beans all over the room and paint them on the walls. It'll be a mess, and John totally wont help with it. Did that make any sense? You think not.  
John knocks on the door twice before opening it and sliding in. His grin falters as he sees you, quickly sitting next to you and hugging an arm around your waist. You lean back and he pulls himself onto your lap. That's the last thing you need, John being so fucking tempting. He slides your shades off your face and you wince before your eyes adjust.  
"What's wrong?" John runs his thumb over the bone of your cheek, brilliant blue eyes looking deep into your own.  
You can't get any words out. You leave forward and take John's lips in yours, asking, begging, him to understand what you need. He takes a few moments to start kissing back, the heat of his cheeks felt easily. Your tongue starts to prod around, poking at his lips and trying to gain entrance. His lips open after what seems like forever. You slide your tongue in without hesitation, exploring his mouth, a hand sliding into his hair to pull him closer and keep him steady.  
His hands sit around your neck. His tongue isn't very active, only moving about after being flicked with your own. You get a desire to pull away and order him to kiss you, force him to give you what you want. You push the desire away. That'll ruin more things than you already have.

\- - -

You walk into Dave's place, expecting something awesome, but only getting a face full of Strider sadness. You don't know quite what you're doing, but soon your on his lap trying to comfort him.  
He looks at you with his beautiful red eyes and you hardly realize he's lent forward until he's trying to suck your lips off. Your face heats and you can't.. You can't.. You totally can. You totally are. And you're being invited into it. You begin to kiss back as your face heats up and you wrap your arms around his neck.  
You vaguely think that might be in some song.  
Dave prods his tongue at your lips for a moment. You love that feeling. You make him do it for a few seconds longer, to the point where you feel that he's getting annoyed, and open your lips to him. He begins to move his tongue all around, pulling you closer with a hand that's settled in your hair.   
You accidentally let a whimper slip out. Dave ruts up against you and you make a mental note to do that again. Dave bites at your lip and you let him, your tongue grazing over his lips. You two go at it for a few more minuets, escalating it to the point where you're harshly pushing your hard on to his.

 

You wake up only in your dark blue briefs laying against Dave. He was only in his crimson boxers, which you note is the same colour as his eyes. Just more dead.   
You recall last nite.  
You can't help the smile on your face as you recall the details. Like the noises Dave made, the blush on it as you had made your own. You would very much like to experience that again. You take a moment to take in all of Dave's warmth before sliding out of his arms. He really is the best friend. You get dressed quickly.  
Your heart pangs as you realize you might have royally fucked up your relationship.  
To take it off your mind you start pouring Lucky Charms into a large bowl, searching for some milk in the fridge. You pull out the half gallon of milk and pour it into the bowl, not all of it, but you fill it pretty high. You slide down to the floor and munch away at the marshmallows and the sweetened crunchy mix.

\- - -

You wake up when the warmth of your dreams is pulled away to just an empty hollow void. You refrain from opening your eyes until you heard the Warmth leave the room. You remember last night. You smile and let your eyes split open. You remember why you originally had called him over in the first place. You frown.  
You sit up and run a hand through your hair, pulling on your pants that are way to fucking tight right now. You need something that you can sleep again in. Sweatpants work. And those are exactly what you go to put on. When you return in a loose sweatshirt and sweatpants John's sitting on the couch, big ass bowl in his hand.  
You slowly sit down next to him and rub your eyes. "You know where my shades are?" Have you ever had it where you're ever expecting you're voice to sound fine but it totally comes out dry and weird? Yeah.  
John looks at you and glances around, soon pulling the folded shades from the table beside him and handing them to you. He swallows and sighs. "Sorry."  
You quirk and eyebrow at him and slide your shades onto your face, your face muscles relaxing from not having to squint against the morning light again. "Why are you saying sorry? I'm the one who should be apologizing."  
"For last night. It was my fault." John's visibly tense, eyes fixated at something to force himself from looking to you.  
"You regret it?" You feel your shoulders tighten but you try and lay back, cover it up.  
John pauses for only half a second, turning to face you and looking into your shades. "Only if I loose you."  
You can't help it. You smile. "Then I don't regret it either."  
John visibly relaxes and leans back into you. "Good." Things are quiet and comfortable, John sliding his bowl away to fully lay beside you. "You're comfortable."  
"Yeah, I am." John laughs and you smile again. "No, but it's the clothes. They make everything soft and amazing."  
John snorts and looks up to you, smile sitting on his lips. "Can I borrow some?"  
You roll your eyes. "We'd have to get up."  
"Oh."  
"I know."  
You and John sit there for a while, sighing as you actually start to pull yourself off the couch.  
You throw some of your most comfortable clothing at John, sitting on your bed to wait for him to change.  
You were thinking he was going to leave for the bathroom or something.  
But nope, you get a face full of Egbert ass.  
You smirk as you pull out your camera. You snap a few shots, smirk forming into a small smile as you see him through your lens. John turns at the second or third click, blush running across his cheeks. He yells at you, but all you really do is laugh and take more pictures. You quickly put away your camera before John can take it.  
"Hey, I can't just have some pictures of my boyfriend to jack to when he's gone?" You deadpan.  
John's blush grew wider and he just starts laughing, holding his side for a while before he finally stops to breath. You quickly rethink that. He's not breathing, just laughing really extremely hard. You watch him with an eyebrow raised, your hands pulling up your camera again and taking a few shots of him.  
He finally calms the fuck down. "Dave, that was stupid." He takes a deep breath, snorting quietly before pulling the shirt on and laying down and setting his head by your knee and smiles. "One, I can't believe you totally just pulled the 'I'm not gunna ask I'll just assume' relationship status thing and act like you were faking if it got weird. Only, like, middle schoolers do that. Two, I doubt I'll be gone that long if at all."  
"I'm not doing the assuming thing, you prick. We're totally a thing now. You just earned yourself a clingy girlfriend. The kind that if you forget our two week-aversery, I'll flip my shit and sue you. Rejoice." John rolls his eyes and laughs. "And unless you're planing on moving the fuck in we will be separated at times. Jegus crust, Egbert."  
"Moving in would be nice." You raise your eyebrows and already begin thinking of ways to get out if this nicely. "Dude! Chill. I'm joking. My god."  
You blink and shake your head sighing and moving to lay down next to him. John shakes his head and snorts, taking your hand in his. If this is all this required, you could do this. John was your best friend, and now he was closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> such a short chapter
> 
> cries


	7. Epilog

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to just finish it and slap that bitch out because.. wow. I won't ever work on it. Like ever. So yeah.

Dave lays down on your lap. You don't spend much time deciding to run your fingers through his hair. He sighs and closes his eyes. You smile and peck his forehead. You rest your head back and let yourself slip into that weird moment between sleep and 'resting your eyes'.

"Babe?" You open your eyes and look down at him. He takes that as his cue to begin talking again. "I was thinking. And. I think... Will you marry me?"

You grin and nod. You kiss his lips and you laugh. "Dave, holy crap, yes, of course!" He smiles and you laugh again.

"Sweet."

"You're such a dork." Your cheeks begin hurting.

"I know." He laughs and closes his eyes. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> meh  
> IM SORRY THAT WAS SUCH A FAIL


End file.
